


You Are My Familiar

by EveryDayBella



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Class Differences, F/M, M/M, Oligarchs are gross, Teenage AU, Touch-Starved, What is wrong with the Orzhov?, bless this poor boy, class based violence, they meet when they're still teenagers, tomik is honestly so soft in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2020-05-16 18:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19324024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDayBella/pseuds/EveryDayBella
Summary: The rain mage in a tattered coat waters his mother's gardens. Tomik shouldn't care so much about him, but there something in his wild, grey-green eyes that sucks him into his world.





	1. Rain Mage

**Author's Note:**

> sssooooo, that flashback in chapter 3 huh? I loved that glimpse of Ral so, so much, but it also made me wonder what would have happened if he had met Tomik then instead of you-know-who and well this came about. Huge thank yous to Jimaine and Thren for betaing and leaving awesome comments. You guys were the best!

The Vronas weren’t the most important of Oligarch families. Tomik’s parents were respected advokists and it wasn’t like they were hard-off or anything, but they weren’t Karlovs; they didn't hold inordinate amounts of power in the guild. They were just Vronas. 

 

They did have a nice manor house in the Tenth, and his mother's pride and joy were her gardens. Three floors tall of them, with a glass roof. Tomik didn’t pretend to know every kind of flower, plant, or fruit tree that grew in there. His father sometimes jokingly accused her of being a secret Selesnyian. 

 

Tomik didn’t care about the gardens. He would have passed them by normally, but…

 

It was raining, inside. The glass ceiling was obscured by soft grey clouds that dropped a gentle rain over the plant boxes. The rain only fell over the plants, leaving the pathways and benches dry. 

 

It's controller was sitting on one of the upper terraces, crossed legged with his eyes closed. He had dark hair that kept falling over his forehead. He was sitting in a bubble that kept him dry, which was probably a good thing since his ratty coat didn’t look like it would keep out a gentle breeze. 

 

He wasn’t sure were his father’s butler had found the new rain mage, but Tomik was enthralled. He couldn’t be much older than Tomik was, and he was gorgeous. There was something about him; something wild and uncontainable that sucked Tomik in. He snuck into the gardens whenever the young rain mage was here to work. It was worth the lost hour of studying, and Tomik didn’t say that about much. 

 

He crept to a corner of the bottom floor garden where he could still see the rain mage, and hid behind one of his mother’s orange trees. As far as he knew the mage had never seen him, which Tomik was okay with. He was content to just watch him quietly. 

 

After about an hour the rain let up, the clouds breaking up to let the summer sun pierce through the glass. The mage bent his neck back and forth to both sides, as if to chase away an ache. When he opened his eyes, Tomik saw they were a greenish grey. The color of the sky before a storm. Tomik nearly kicked himself for being so poetic. Poetry was something the Orzhov payed for, not something they created themselves. 

 

Something about the rain mage made him want to anyway. 

 

The mage stood up, shaking out lanky limbs and pushed the hair out of his face. He shoved both hands deep into his pockets before he turned and walked away. Tomik sighed. That was probably the last he'd see of him for a while. It would be a couple days before he came back to do it all over again. 

 

Tomik knew he should get over this stupid crush. He had other things he needed to be focused on, like school and the upcoming exams that would get him into the advanced advokist curriculum and joining the guild. He would get in anyway—just because of his last name—but he wanted to earn it. He really shouldn’t be so obsessed with a “common nobody”, as most everyone else in his life would have said. He didn’t even know his name. 

 

Tomik shook his head and forced himself out from his hiding place and away from the scented haven of the garden. He had things to do and that should have been enough to distract him. 

 

But there was a tug, a pull, something in his gut told him that he needed to be outside. He bit his lip, a nervous gesture his father was trying to break him of. He should go upstairs and finish the paper on layline mana and land zoning, but maybe he needed some fresh air? A walk, just to clear his head of the rain mage, and then he could get back to work. There was nothing to it. 

 

He rushed out the front door, pushing his glasses a little more firmly up his nose. The front of the Vrona manor opened up into a little square dominated by a bubbling fountain. There were a few little shops, but mostly there were other Oligarch manors, none of them quite as big as the Vrona’s. It was Orzhov territory, so the buildings were grand and imposing. Tomik knew a vampiric pontiff, a friend of his father’s, lived in the house across the square, and there were thrulls everywhere. 

 

“Morning’s Curse,” Tomik muttered to himself as he descended the steps to the street level. He might as well work while he walked, and there was no better place to start listing than his own home. “Strong and order and decay energies, weak in those of growth. No Izzet laboratories.”

 

There were always ways around that, of course. That was the fun part. 

 

He turned to the quieter alley that ran along the side of the manor. Usually there was no one there, at the most, a few workmen going between houses. But this time there was a huddle of boys about his age. He recognized Aleric who lived two streets over, and Sergie who he went to school with. The other faces were recognizable, but Tomik wouldn’t call any of them friends. 

 

Then he saw what they were huddled around. Anger, white hot, like he’d never felt before boiled in his stomach. 

 

“Hey!” He shouted, breaking their attention from the rain mage who was crumpled on the ground and bloody. “Get away from him!”

 

“Oh come, Vrona,” Aleric jeered. “What do you care anyway? He’s just a maggot.”

 

Tomik gritted his teeth, raising his hands, though he had no idea what to do with them. His magic wasn’t built for confrontation. It was designed for safeguarding and truth telling, but he had an idea. Even if he messed up these boys still wouldn't hurt him. Sometimes the power of his last name was helpful.

 

“I said, get away.”

 

The gang leader rolled his eyes, scornful and annoyed. “Fuck off.”

 

He turned back to the rain mage with a raised fist, and Tomik reacted before he could think about it. His bonds weren't the strongest. He hadn’t been casting them long, but they wrapped around Aleric’s wrists and Tomik physically pulled with all his might, toppling the boy backwards and into the dusted street. 

 

The delicate lace on his robes was now hopelessly ruined. Tomik smirked and tried to hide how hard it was to hold the bond in place. 

 

“Let me go, Vrona!” Aleric snapped, but sounded pathetic. 

 

“I do and you have to get out, got it?” Tomik told him evenly. “And don’t be around here anymore.”

 

“Fine, just let me go!” 

 

Tomik released the spell. Aleric struggled back to his feet with a glare as his fellows gathered around him. “This isn’t over. I’ll get you back.”

 

“Just get out here  and don’t come back or I’ll call my family's guards.” Tomik called after their retreating forms, a thrill as they acted like common hooligans. No doubt his father would tell Tomik’s but he was certain he could spin that in their favor. The rain mage was, after theirs. Aleric and his friends couldn't’ just come around messing things up.  His shoulders slumped as the exhaustion from the spell got to him.

 

The rain mage struggled to his knees, blood dripping from his broken nose. Tomik approached, but only got a glare in return as the mage gingerly dabbed at his crooked nose. 

 

“Are you okay?” Tomik asked.

 

The mage nodded, but didn’t look happy about it. “What's this gonna cost me?”

 

“Cost you?” Tomik was a little taken aback. 

 

“Yeah. You’re Orhzov. You don’t do anything for free.”

 

Tomik flushed, and pushed up his glasses even though they hadn’t slipped nor where they crooked. “I’m not Orhzov. At least not technically. I haven’t joined. You don’t have to pay me.”

 

“Great.” The mage rolled his eyes and winced as he poked his nose again. “So I’m in your debt.”

 

He said the last word like it was dirty, and Tomik flinched. 

 

“No. Really. I was just trying to help. They’re a bunch of bullies, and honestly I never liked them to begin with. I couldn’t just let them do that to you, or anyone else.”

 

The mage looked at him like he was seeing him for the first time. Tomik flushed, and tried to smile reassuringly. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

 

“Yep.” Tomik nodded and held out his hand. “My name is Tomik.”

 

The mage inspected his hand like it was a snake that would bite him before gingerly taking it in his own. Tomik couldn’t help noticing that he had long, nimble fingers that were rough against his own. “Ral.”

 

Tomik sat on the cobblestone next to him, and Ral’s grey-green eyes widened in shock. “Why did they target you?”

 

Ral snorted, and then winced in pain, gingerly reaching for his nose. Tomik wished he knew some healing spells, but that had never been something his teachers had deemed important. “Like they need excuses. ...But it was my fault. I lingered too long, looking for scrap.”

 

“Scrap? Why do you need scrap?”

 

“It's good to sell and I need the mizzium.” Ral’s eyes widened in surprise like he hadn’t meant to say that last part.

 

“Why do you need mizzium?” Tomik knew the Izzet valued the metal for experiments and as a building material and where very protective of it. used the stuff all the time, but he didn’t know what it actually did. Apparently the rain mage knew something he didn’t? Tomik was suddenly very curious. 

 

Ral looked a little skeptical. “You’ll tell someone else and take it away from me.”

 

“No I won’t.” The thought had never crossed his mind, but Ral didn’t look convinced. “Look I can prove it.”

 

Tomik summoned a golden orb of mana in his palm and Ral leaned in close with a wide eyed look. Tomik caught the smell of ozone and rain. 

 

“I, Tomik Vrona, swear to repeat nothing that Ral…”

 

“Zarek.” Ral whispered. 

 

“Zarek,” Tomik repeated with a smile, “says to me to any other soul living or dead, here or in the afterlife.”

 

Tomik released the spell, and the orb faded before the remaining light separated and sank into his and Ral’s arms with a tingle. 

 

Ral’s rubbed at the spot before looking up at him. “What does that mean?”

 

“It means I can’t repeat anything you say. The spell would make my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I tried.”

 

Ral nodded wearily, his eyes studying Tomik carefully. 

 

He should have been more careful, clarified to the spell that it was just this conversation, or not been as specific about living and dead or the bit about the afterlife, but he hadn’t wanted to be careful. He wanted Ral to be his friend. In any case, the spell was already cast and it was too late to take it back. 

 

“I’m trying to invent something with the mizzium,” Ral admitted, playing with the worn sleeve of his coat. “So I can convince the Izzet to let me join their guild.” 

 

“Can you do it?” Tomik asked, hoping that he sounded encouraging and not skeptical. 

 

Ral nodded, but his face was swelling and it was starting to look uncomfortable. “Yeah. I’m gonna do it.”

 

“That sounds amazing. I’ll save you some of the stuff we throw out.”

 

“I don’t need charity,” Ral muttered defensively. 

 

“Then just count it as part of your wages.” Tomik shrugged, and hoped that it would be enough to assuage Ral’s pride. If he said yes, it would give him a chance to see Ral more often. 

 

Ral’s seemed to consider then grinned and nodded.

 


	2. I Got a Ways to Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go. I'm sorry about the wait but things had to be worked out. Important things like plot. LOLs. Please note the rating has gone up and some new tags. There may still be more. 
> 
> Huge, huge, huge thanks to my beta's Jamaine and Thren. This would not be half the story it is without them and they've made it fun in the process!

**2\. I Got a Ways to Go**

* * *

  
  
  


The vat was bubbling. The book he had, molding and probably older than he was, said it needed to be hot, but hadn’t mentioned anything about bubbling. Was bubbling good? Bad? Would it explode? Was it even hot enough to melt down the building blocks needed to form mizzium yet? He couldn’t help wishing that whichever Izzet guildmage had written this down hadn’t been such an air-headed idiot and written such shitty directions. That would have been helpful. 

 

Ral took a risk and turned the heat up on his rigged element. A lot of this was guesswork; melting Mizzium was already supposed to be complex, but it would have been straightforward compared to what Ral was attempting. Unfortunately, once it was complete, actual Mizzium required either dragon’s fire or a very specialized and sophisticated form of Izzet-made weird capable of simulating it to melt the Mizzium down again. Ral was tragically short on both.  

 

But creating Mizzium entirely from scratch was also a problem. The dilapidated book gave him a general idea of its components, but some of those were expensive enough to be beyond his reach and not useful enough to even find as scrap. Ral scowled and pushed hair out of his face. Besides, if he could afford those, then he could just buy a brick of mizzium directly which would make all of this so much faster. But he'd lost a job this week and his scrap sales weren't enough to make up for it. Besides, the Izzet were pretty protective of the pure stuff. They’d never sell it to a street urchin like him. 

 

But Ral thought he had a workaround. 

 

It turned out writing clear instructions wasn’t the only thing genuine Izzet guildmages managed to screw up from time to time... many of the common mistakes his book described in the smelting process had apparently happened to some of those mages, possibly explaining how their projects had ended up as failed scrap for Ral to find in the first place. 

 

Ral carefully added another handful of not-quite-Mizzium screws, wires, and small conducting plates that he had ripped out of larger scraps and found to be flawed, watching intently. It had taken countless hours of study and testing, but he believed he’d correctly sorted out four separate batches of flawed Mizzium that he knew how to fix with materials he could actually obtain, and since it wasn’t fully complete Mizzium yet, his smelting setup would actually be able to melt it. He needed three large, thick plates of pure mizzium for his project.... If he was lucky, this first largest batch would give him one. 

 

He glared at the bubbling mixture while waiting for it to turn ‘burnished brown’, whatever the hells that meant. The League was founded and headed by a living, fire breathing ancient dragon and he couldn’t even get his mages to write sensible instructions. If  _ he _ was guildmaster of the Izzet League, his first order would be make Izzet instructions make more sense. 

 

There were sounds downstairs but Ral ignored them. This was delicate work. Too long on the burner and the mizzium would be brittle and break. Too short an amount of time and he would never get it flat enough to work with. 

 

_ Ral.  _ Jace’s mental voice was amused and smug. He was lucky they were floors apart because Ral wanted to punch him.  _ It’s your boyfriend. _

 

_ Tell Tomik to come on up. And I don’t have a boyfriend. And stay out of my head, Beleren. _

 

There was a disembodied chuckle, but his friend’s voice in his head finally fell silent. Ral knew that Jace couldn’t help hearing random thoughts sometimes, but still, he felt like he was justified in the reminder. 

 

Especially when he insisted on calling Tomik his boyfriend. 

 

Tomik  _ wasn’t _ his boyfriend. He was just ... Tomik. Ral hadn't even been sure that he’d come today. A Tenth District slum was hardly a place that his parents would approved of. Usually Tomik got his cousin to cover for him from what Ral had heard, but it depended on her being available to begin with. Ral didn't know much about her, but she certainly sounded interesting from Tomik's description. 

 

His  _ friend's  _ brown curls appeared over the top of the ladder that lead to Ral’s Loft Lair. Tomik was smiling as he finished the climb. He dropped a bag that Ral knew weighed a ton in books and scrolls on his bed to join the scattered gears, bolts, and other riff-raff that Ral hadn’t bothered to clean. Tomik pulled a crate over to Ral and sat down before handing over a rolled wax paper cone full of something. “What are you doing?”

 

“Melting mizzium,” Ral muttered. The cone was surprisingly cold and looking inside he found small, shaved bits of bright blue ice. Tomik produced a spoon before digging into his own. Ral took a skeptical bite, but his eyes widened at the sweet berry taste. Tomik smirked, but didn’t say anything as Ral took a more enthusiastic bite. “It’s taking forever.”   
  


“It’s probably not meant to be done on such a small burner.” 

 

“Probably, but here I am. How was school?”

 

Tomik shrugged like it was uninteresting, but Ral wasn’t buying it. If the last few months had taught him anything, it was that Tomik took a great deal of pride in his studies. Ral could understand; it was a lot like how he was with his tinkering. And the few times he’d gotten Tomik to ramble about it, it had been seriously adorable. 

 

He swore he could feel Jace’s eyebrows raise downstairs. 

 

_ Fuck off, Beleren. _

 

“Come on,” Ral nudged Tomik’s arm, encouraging him to let go a little bit. “Admit it; you wanna tell me all about the tests you aced and the laws you mastered.”

 

Tomik stuck his tongue out at him and it was a bright, artificial red. Ral cackled in shock and then leaned over to see into his own cup. 

 

“Wait. Is my tongue blue?”

 

Tomik nodded with a smirk and a pink color rose in his cheeks. “It’ll wash off. It’s just the syrup they use to flavor the ice.”

 

“That’s awesome.” Ral wondered what else they could do with it. Maybe they could use it to prank the Boros guards.

 

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t get  _ too _ carried away,” Tomik snickered.

 

Ral grinned back at him and said, not even a little convincingly, "Would I do that?" then he added, his smile flashing to something more sincere, "...Thanks for bringing me one, by the way."

 

Tomik smiled back, shifting a little. "You're getting so excited, It's just food." 

 

Ral’s smile left his eyes, and a subtle feeling of unease twisted in his stomach. “‘Just food’  _ is _ kind of a big deal." It came out darker than Ral had intended it to, but there was nothing for it now. He turned his back on Tomik, focusing intently on his little burner before Tomik could respond. He didn't want the conversation taking that kind of heavy turn. He didn’t like talking about that kind of stuff with Tomik. It intensified the differences between them a little too much. Ral already knew he was just a curiosity to Tomik. Eventually, probably by summer's end, Tomik was going to get bored of this game they were playing. Ral would rather enjoy the time left, instead of ruining it by thinking too much. 

 

“I think this is ready.” Ral nodded toward the vat. He used a long, thin piece of scrap granite he’d fashioned into a spoon to stir the liquid metal. It was completely melted and it had gained a metallic sheen with very faint wisps of blue steam rising from its surface. It was pretty, in an odd way. 

 

“Do you need help?” Tomik asked, leaning over with him, close enough that Ral could still smell Lady Vrona’s gardens on him.

 

Ral shook his head, grabbing a pair of salvaged rubber gloves. “No. Kind of a one person job. You might want to stand over there, though. This stuff can be kinda volatile ... I think.”

 

“If you blow a hole in the wall again, your roommates are gonna be pissed,” Tomik said in a sing-song voice as he moved to the opposite wall. 

 

“They’ll get over it.” Ral grabbed the vat, feeling the heat even through his gloves. “I fixed it, didn’t I?”

 

“Only after a solid month of them complaining about the rain.”

 

“Well, it's not my fault no one but me can cast a simple containment field.” Slowly and carefully, breath held in anticipation, he tipped the vat and poured a small but steady stream of melted mizzium into the mould. He struggled to hold in his impatience, working slowly and thoughtfully. If he did this right the first time, he would be saving time and resources.

 

And, really, he didn’t want Tomik to see him do it wrong. 

 

It took several minutes, but finally he was able to put the vat aside and focus on the now-filled mould. He tapped the sides, jiggling the metal, hopefully popping any air bubbles. He studied the top, looking for how it lay, making sure there were no ripples or uneven spaces. Satisfied, he grinned and turned to Tomik. 

 

“Ta-da.” He spread his arms and then took a short bow just to show off a little.

 

Tomik approached, and looked at the filled mould, his brown eyes bright and studious behind his thick rimmed glasses. Ral flushed, but he wasn’t sure why. Tomik wasn’t even looking at him, not that it seemed to matter. He felt that same hot feeling whenever Tomik looked at him too closely as well. That was curious. “How long will it take to cool?”

 

“A couple days, hopefully? It would go faster if I could bake it, but I don’t have an oven big enough or hot enough for that.”

 

“Do you realize that you could be the first person outside of Nivix to smelt mizzium in a thousand years?” Tomik was grinning now too. That made something twist in Ral’s stomach. That had never happened before. 

 

“Yeah. Pretty awesome, right? Thank goodness that collector I work for has no idea what he has.”

 

“Did you steal that book?” There wasn’t any judgement in Tomik’s voice, and Ral wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, Tomik did know that Ral stole on occasion. It was just a fact of his life, and honestly Ral was of the opinion that the Ohrzov did far worse. Tomik never seemed to mind, at the most he was just mildly curious. It aggravated Ral a little, this reminder of how different they were. 

 

Honestly, they should never have become friends. But after Tomik had saved him from that other gang of oligarch jackasses, the next time Ral had come to the Vrona manor, Tomik had been there with bloody fingers and a handful of mizzium wires and screws he’d apparently ripped out of some contraption they were throwing out. 

 

Ral, run away teenage rain mage and ruffian, was now apparently best friends with an Oligarch heir. His life had become very weird.

 

“No,” he said, answering Tomik’s question about the book. “He was throwing it out, and I took it.” Ral shrugged, studying the still-steaming soon-to-be-mizzium plate. “Worked out for me.”

 

Tomik stood up and stretched his arms over his head. It was enough to break Ral’s focus from his new achievement. Tomik was tall, and lean, and not soft like Aleric or the others of Tomik's peers. He’d learned from exploring the Tenth with Tomik that he didn't shy away from a little hard work or get squeamish about physical labor. Though there was always still something inescapably bookish about him, either in his sharp brown eyes or the black rimmed glasses he always seemed to be playing with. 

 

Ral shook himself before Tomik could catch him looking. He wasn’t blind. He was aware of how pretty Tomik was and Ral did like him — a lot. Maybe even enough to consider a  _ small _ crush, but it would do no good. Someone like Tomik wasn’t meant to be with someone like Ral. The idea of it was laughingly stupid.

 

_ Since when has that ever stopped you? _

 

Ral bristled at the sudden thought in his head. “Godsdamn it, Jace!” Stalking to the ladder Ral snapped over the edge, “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

 

A laugh floated up from the floor below, but it was the one behind him that caught Ral’s attention. Tomik was sitting on his bed, pulling paper and scrolls out of his bag while grinning. He was caught in a stray light beam from a hole in the roof and he looked angelic. 

 

“What did Jace say this time?” Tomik asked archly. 

 

Ral shrugged not even bothering to explain to Tomik. “It was nothing. Just being annoying.”

 

“Say that again?” Tomik asked, the edges of a smile on his face. Like Ral wouldn’t 

do anything for that face. 

 

“Just being annoying?” The smile truly blossomed across Tomik’s face. Ral felt himself flush in response, but he wasn’t sure why. “What?”

 

“It just sounds so different when you say it.” 

 

Oh. That was it. Ral knew he still had the accent more common for Trovna. It was rougher than the way people spoke in the Tenth, and it stood out. He’d been trying to get rid of it, but it still came out when he was excited or angry, and he’d just been both in quick succession. To be fair, it was the rest of them that sounded weird to his ears. Jace sounded mostly like he was from the Tenth, but sometimes he drifted into something Ral couldn’t even begin to trace. He told everyone he was from the Tenth, but Ral knew he was lying and was going to find out the truth one day. Vraska carried influences from the undercity. Then there was Tomik, who was the strangest by far. He sounded like Tenth only fancier, every remaining rough edge smoothed out. It was a little like all the rich families back in Trovna, only better. Prettier. Ral didn’t mind it as much as he thought he might. 

 

“I like it.” Tomik looked down, readjusting his glasses, the tips of his ears turning bright red. 

 

Ral’s mouth was suddenly very dry, and his stomach felt queasy. Tomik was stunning, and too fucking perfect to be sitting there amidst the cobbled-together bits that made up Ral’s life. Not for the first time, he wondered why Tomik seemed to care so much. Ral was nothing. He was magically gifted, but untrained. And with a speciality that wasn’t going to get him very fair, unless he could get Project Zap Zap up and running. He had no money, no real belongings. Even the building they lived in wasn’t theirs. Its was a laboratory that had been abandoned decades ago, and they'd just moved in. He didn’t like to admit it, but he went hungry most nights. His coat, which was probably the best piece of clothing he had, was held together by patches, string, and a prayer. 

 

And yet there was Tomik anyway, pulling homework out to work on when he would have surely been far more comfortable in his own manor house served by thrulls. 

 

_ This is probably just a rebellion thing,  _ Ral told himself as he shoved mechanical debris out of the way so he could stretch out over the lumpy mattress. He used Tomik’s thigh as a pillow which earned him a smile that made his stomach do flips.  _ Just a little Oligarch walk on the wild side. A couple months hanging out with the riff-raff, and then he can go back to his real, comfortable life.  _

 

A part of Ral was angry at the idea that he might be just an easy distraction to leave behind. Sure, Tomik didn’t seem like the kind of person to just abandon people, but Tomik was from a group that was so rich that they probably had very different definitions of the word. 

 

Ral frowned unhappily, his head still resting on Tomik’s thigh. He should have been more careful. Just because Tomik had saved him back in the spring didn’t mean that he was obligated to keep letting him come over. But... Tomik always listened when Ral rambled about mechanics, or science, or his projects. He didn’t judge Ral for his jobs, or the occasional stealing, or squatting in an abandoned warehouse. Tomik hadn’t tried to change him, and Tomik liked his friends, and…

 

Ral scrowled. He was getting ahead of himself. This, as nice as it was, was temporary. None of the evidence he had so far pointed to anything different. If anything changed, well, he could reevaluate then. 

 

“Hey,” Tomik flicked his fingers against Ral’s forehead to gather his attention. It created a good opportunity for Ral to show off his new, blue tongue. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah. I’m fine. Why?”

 

“You’re being quiet. It's weird.” Tomik smirked and there went Ral’s stomach again.

 

“I don’t talk all the time,” Ral grumbled, just because he liked the way Tomik argued with him. He was probably going to be a great, stuck up advokist one day. 

 

“When we explored that abandoned cathedral down in the Lower Tenth, you spent the entire time explaining thermonuclear dynamics. When we went for noodles you rambled about that time you got lightning to hit a metal rod up on the roof. Only when we got back did Vraska explain that you electrocuted the entire roof and yourself in the process. And when we were walking to Pontiff Arbor’s house so you could water his gardens you complained the entire time about Jace being nosy and reading your mind. Do I need to go on?”

 

Tomik’s upside-down lips were pressed into a thin line, severe and impartial. Behind his glasses however there was an amused sparkle in his hazel eyes. Ral thought he should be annoyed, but all he could focus on was how Tomik had remembered all the things he’d talked about. Even thermonuclear dynamics and how annoyed Jace made him sometimes. 

 

Ral wasn’t sure he’d ever had anyone who actually listened, let alone remembered. 

 

Maybe for the first time, he was stunned a little speechless. 

  
  


A couple hours passed, spent in comfortable silence—Tomik studying and Ral fiddling with pieces of scrap like they were puzzle pieces—before a commotion downstairs drew them from the loft. The bottom floor of the warehouse was one cavernous room that they divided into sections using string, tarp, plywood, and whatever else they could come across. In the middle of the room was a shared communal space. One of Ral’s rigged heating elements was there for cooking whatever food they managed to find. 

 

There were only two other people there. A gorgon with twisted tendrils for hair, and a human with calm, ice blue eyes. It hadn’t taken Ral long to learn appearances in Jace’s case could be especially deceiving, though he was generally a good guy. 

 

Ral had met Jace and Vraska not long after he made it to the Tenth District. He wasn’t so proud that he wouldn't admit that if he hadn’t met them, he probably wouldn’t have lasted long. He’d come from a small district, and as much as he loathed to admit it, at first the Tenth had overwhelmed him. Jace and Vraska had given him a place to stay, and the skills to survive on the streets. 

 

He’d never learned where Jace really came from, or how he’d picked up his mind mage skills. Sometimes he wasn’t sure even Jace knew, which has a whole other bundle of weird. Vraska was from the undercity, and did occasional work for the Golgari. Ral didn’t ask what. He’d decided early on he didn’t want to know. The gorgon could be severe and judgemental, but she was fiercely loyal to those who she deemed had earned it. Ral was proud that he now seemed to be included in that group. 

 

The three of them formed their own little guild. It was easier to survive the streets of the Tenth District together than it would ever be apart. They had become the closest thing to family Ral had since his mother died. They didn't mind that he would stay up all hours of the night tinkering, and didn’t think he was ridiculous for thinking he could join the Izzet someday. Or at least were nice enough not to say so out loud. 

 

He hated to be sentimental, but at this point he was pretty sure that, if it came down to it, he’d do damn near anything for Jace and Vraska. 

 

At the moment however, he was much more interested in the rich, spicy smell of curry. Jace and Vraska where both squished into a small, mold-crusted loveseat they’d pulled off a street corner somewhere. There was a crate in front of it serving as a makeshift table, and a few other ancient, out of fashion chairs in various states of disrepair. Their little sitting arrangement was cluttered with older food wrappers, bits of Ral’s tinkering, a few of Vraska’s knives, and bits of whatever Jace had most recently been reading before he lost focus to the next thing. And tonight, in the center of it all rested a collection of steaming waxed paper containers that were making his mouth water. 

 

“Who got paid?” Ral asked, simultaneously pulling Tomik forward by the sleeve of his white robe and then pushing him into one of the chairs. Ral was aware that he was being bossy, but it wasn’t for his own sake. It was in response to the hard glare in Vraska’s yellow eyes.

 

“Vraska did,” Jace replied, opting to use his tongue to talk for the first time all afternoon. “There’s plenty.” 

 

“That’s alright,” Tomik said softly, visibly wilting under the force of Vraska’s stare. “I’m fine.”

 

Ral rolled his eyes, snagged a portion of bright red curry for himself and a milder one for Tomik, before squishing himself into the chair next to Tomik. It was a tight fit, pressed together shoulder down to knee, only really made possible by how wiry Ral was. Tomik was warm and solid under his layers of fabric. There was a strange, queasy feeling in Ral’s gut in response. He chalked it up to being hungry, but there was something fuzzy and happy in his brain as well. He pressed the container into Tomik’s hands and their fingers brushed briefly. Ral dug into his own food to ignore the buzz left behind in his palms. 

 

“Why does something smell in here?” Vraska asked with a sneer. Ral glared back and then grinned smugly. 

 

“I smelted Mizzium.” It wasn’t what she was talking about, she liked to complain about Tomik smelling like rich, obnoxious cologne. Ral loved Vraska like a sister, but he was getting tired of her bullshit. “Apparently creates a smell.”

 

Vraska’s hard features softened, distracted for a moment. “You did it?”

 

“He did.” Tomik was grinning. There was something soft, maybe proud in his hazel eyes and the edge of his smile. It made Ral’s throat itch and go strangely tight. He shoveled more curry down it to chase the feeling away. “It was amazing. You know he’s the first person outside of Nivix to do it?”

 

_ Aw, your boyfriend’s doing your bragging for you. It’s adorable. _

 

Ral glared at Jace. 

 

“...Amazing.” Vraska said to Tomik. She sounded like she’d swallowed something unpleasant. Then she turned her attention to Ral himself, and her tone became normal. Ral rolled his eyes. “How much more do you have to go?”

 

“Too much,” he said with his mouth full. “But it's a start.”

 

“You’ll be there before you know it.” Tomik pushed up his glasses, although they didn’t seem to need it, simultaneously biting his lip. Ral didn’t even realize he was staring until the image of the two of them was shoved into his head. 

 

_ See? You two. Adorable. _

 

_ Leave me alone, Jace.  _

 

Tomik moved to stand up, and Ral didn’t need Jace's visions acting as a mirror to know that he was pouting at losing Tomik. “I should be getting home. Thanks for having me. Tomorrow, Ral?”

 

“Yeah. I’m doing Pontiff Kohut’s garden tomorrow. Meet me outside?”

 

Tomik nodded and then was gone, leaving Ral feeling somehow hollow. He didn’t like the feeling. It was kind of like when he couldn’t get two scrap pieces to fit together, or when his experiments blew up (sometimes literally) in his face. It was unsettling and annoying. On top of that he noticed that Tomik had barely touched his curry, and frowned. Ral turned to sprawl across the chair, long legs over the armrest and glared at his friends. “You both suck.”

 

“What did I do?” Jace asked, illusioning himself to look innocent. Ral knew better. 

 

“All afternoon, non-stop, ‘you and your boyfriend.’ He’s not my boyfriend. Enough already.”

 

“I think you protest a little too much,” Jace noted, still maintaining the innocent facade.

 

Before Ral could argue Vraska twisted her face up like she’d swallowed a particularly hairy fungus. It set something off in Ral’s brain, or maybe in his gut, some dark, sore, angry place that made him want to lash out to make his point. It was a place he shoved down often because he had to. He couldn’t tell his employers what he thought of them. He had no voice in the city he lived in, just an impotent scream into a noisy void. When Tomik had started coming over, Ral had doubts. But he had decided to take this one thing for himself, but even his friends wouldn’t let him have that. 

 

“Oh, go ahead and say it, Vraska. It not like you haven’t before.”

 

Her ‘hair’ twitched agitatedly. Any sane person would have backed down from the gorgon, but Ral wasn’t certain that was a descriptor he had ever earned. Besides which, he and Vraska had had this same argument and many others like it before, much to Jace’s frustration. 

 

“He’s an oligarch,” she bit out one word at a time. "You can’t be pals with an oligarch. You know what they do. What they think about people about like us. They don’t care if you achieved something. All they care about is how they can use us to get more gold and power. This is going to stab you in the back one day, and as things are, probably take us down with you.”

 

“He’s not going to stab me in the back.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“Because I know!” Ral shouted, and felt something tingly in his palms. He could tell her about the contract that Tomik had created, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to leave that just for him. He’d been so floored that Tomik, for no other reason than because it was right, went to all the effort to make him comfortable. He’d promised, and in a way that made it impossible to break. No one, outside of Jace and Vraska, had ever done something like that for him. Since then, Tomik had done nothing to make Ral think he was lying or using him. But there was just no way to adequately explain this to his friends, because he didn’t even know how to explain it to himself. He knew in his head Vraska was right, that he was being selfishly reckless keeping Tomik close, but the thought of sending him away made Ral ache in ways that he wasn’t used to. 

 

“I just, I know, Vraska. Okay? He’s everything I should hate, but he’s not like them. I know you don’t trust him, but can’t you at least give him a chance? For me?”

 

Vraska sighed, unhappy, but resigned. “Like I have any choice. You’re stupidly stubborn. I just hope that this doesn’t blow up in all our faces.”

 

Honestly, Ral really hoped the same thing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like music? I made a playlist! Here on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3EphNvPLTP2IUeJyQuQi2U?si=cuugizNwQ-6wWMJMfcqWNw) and here on [Apple Music](https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/you-are-my-familier/pl.u-yZyVJyrsY5y8eL)


	3. Give Me One Good Reason

**Give Me One Good Reason**

It was stiflingly warm in the classroom that Professor Krona used. Summer was in full swing, the sun streaming through the stained glass casting a daze of color on the floor. It was stunningly beautiful, but it also meant the windows couldn’t be opened to let in a breeze. The thick, stagnant air was enough to spread drowsiness as strong as a sleep spell through the room. Even Tomik—as much as he loved school—was finding his eyelids drooping as he struggled through. Blinking, he tried to focus on the spell being woven up front.

“Miss Vrona,” the teacher’s voice cut through the haze. It was weighted by a magic that forced attention. “Perhaps you can tell me why verity circles aren’t always trustworthy?”

In the seat next to him, Tomik’s cousin Karina slowly looked up from her paper which seemed to feature more silly doodles of stick figures fighting than actual notes. She widened her brown eyes, the phoniness nearly bleeding off her.

“A lie isn’t the only way to avoid telling the truth. A particularly strong will can refuse to answer them.” Karina had a high pitched voice that could either make her sound sweet or demonic, depending on what she wanted you to think of her. “Oh! Maybe a potion could mess up your brain chemistry. You could make yourself think that the lie you’re telling was the truth and the enchantment wouldn’t know what to do. Isn't that neat! Or if you scuff the circle just enough it would break, and the mage might not know it. That’s a good one to try!”

“Yes. Thank you Miss Vrona,” Professor Krona said dryly. Tomik bit his lip to keep from smiling at her antics. Karina kicked his ankle with her shoe, trying to make him crack. He shook his head, but his shoulders were shaking as he struggled to contain a laugh. When she did it again Tomik risked swatting at her in turn. By that point, the professor was nearly done, and thankfully too preoccupied with his lecture to notice them.

When they were finally released, Karina was the first to bounce to her feet in a floof of blue silk and stylish ebony curls. She barely waited for him to put his things in his bag before grabbing his arm and pulling him from the building. The courtyard out front of the school was drenched in sunshine, the heat dizzying until one got used to it. For a moment, Tomik yearned for one of the little fans Ral had invented to keep the lab from getting too stuffy in the summer.

In an open space in front of the glittering fountain emblazoned with the Orzhov sigil, Karina let go of his arm and pointed imperiously down at the cobblestones. “Draw a circle.”

Dutifully, he dug a piece of chalk out of his bag and traced a perfect circle around her, the pure white standing out on the cobblestones. He stood back up and looked at her, no magic having yet left his fingers.

Karina arched an eyebrow at him in annoyance but there was a slow grin spreading on her face in spite of it. “You think you’re really cute, huh?”

“You just said draw a circle.” Tomik shrugged. “Loophole.”

“Oh dammit, you are too cute. I can’t stay mad at you.” Karina kissed his cheek and batted her long dark eyelashes. “Please?”

“You could do it yourself, you know,” Tomik pointed out, willing mana into the circle until it glowed and hummed.

“You do it better than I do. Oh,” She smiled as the enchantment took hold of her words. “Tingly.”

Tomik leveraged himself onto the edge of the fountain while she crouched and poked around the edges of the circle. He pulled an apple—fresh from his mother’s gardens—out of his bag. It made him wonder what Ral was doing, and he sighed as he bit into it, looking off across the courtyard.

“You’re thinking about him again,” Karina sing-songed.

“How did you know?” Tomik was careful not to lean on the enchantment with that question. This was an experiment, not an interrogation. At the moment she was trusting him to hold off until she was ready to start playing around with the circle, and he didn’t want to break that trust.

“You smiled.” She mimicked the action and dramatically fluttered her eyelashes. “And then sighed, and looked off into the distance. It reminds me of that terrible actor in that opera Mother drug me to the last time she was here.”

“You just say that because you hate the opera.”

“It's not funny enough. Melodramatic love stories... The only good part is the end...” Karina paused dramatically before continuing with malevolent glee. “Where everyone dies.”

Tomik laughed, more than used to his cousin’s antics.

She stood up suddenly, shoulders back and chin held high, determined and ready for a fight. “Okay; ask me a question.”

Tomik gathered the threads of the enchantment and used them to apply power to his words, demanding the truth in turn. “Did you sneak out last night?”

Karina tensed, visibly fighting against the circle. Her fingers tightened into fists and her forehead creased with lines. He felt tension on the verity circle, like something was fighting to break the shape, then abruptly the circle snapped back to normal and Karina groaned.

“Yes,” she finally blurted, then groaned, and crouched to go back to poking at the chalk. Tomik quietly watched her while he finished his apple wondering what her goal was. Maybe she was trying to see if her hand would interrupt the magic, or maybe she was trying to figure out just how much she had to scuff the chalk before it broke. Either way he had just finished his last bite when she popped back up, adjusting her hairdo, and nodded to him for another question.

“Did you go see that Dimir girl?”

It took her longer, but she still cracked. “Nnnnn-no. That is officially over.” She shrugged. “Turns out mind mages are no fun to sleep with. No spontaneity.”

Tomik snorted, wondering if Vraska felt the same way about her mind mage. Then he quickly put that thought out of his mind because if Vraska knew he had thought it, she would probably kill him.

“Do I need to cover for you this afternoon?” she asked, while passing her hand through the faint golden glow rising up from the chalk and giggling.

“I don’t think so.” Tomik tried not to show how unhappy he was with that. Ral had picked up some new clients, and he needed to work. Tomik didn’t begrudge him. Ral thought he hid it, but Tomik had figured out that his wages didn’t cover his necessities. It was why Tomik always brought snacks with him when he went to see Ral; that way he at least had something to eat, even if none of them had gotten paid recently. Tomik had been trying to think of a way to provide more without wounding Ral’s pride, but he hadn’t made progress yet.

Still, he missed Ral when he didn’t see him. Ral was easy, uncomplicated and he didn’t expect anything of Tomik but himself. Ral didn't need all of the flashy artifice that Oligarchs ooed and awwed and obsessed over. In fact Tomik was relatively confident he was _more_ happy without it. He was utterly brilliant, clever in a way that Tomik never would be. His lazy grin was stunning and Tomik loved the way that he wasn’t shy about getting in his space. They’d squish into the same chair, or Ral would lay his head in his lap, heavy and warm and _real_ , and Tomik would melt. It was so hard to not want more, to not want to run his fingers through Ral’s hair or curl in tighter against him.

Tomik liked being in Ral’s orbit and he thought, or at least hoped, that Ral liked being in his.

“Aww,” Karina cooed, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “You’re so into him. It's cute!”

“I’m not ‘into him’,” Tomik replied, though he felt the heat in his cheeks giving him away. “He's just a friend.”

“Um hum. I’ve never seen you give up studying for _anyone_ before—you complete nerd— but sure; he’s just a _friend_. But if your 'friend' looked at you with those pretty green eyes of his that you're always talking about and said,” she pitched her voice comically low, “ ‘Hey, wanna bang?' " she pointed at Tomik, "you wouldn't say no." She poked at the field again, and turned fully to face him. “Okay, again.”

Tomik gaped, trying to think of an answer, but finally just frowned. He knew engaging with her would only make it worse. Besides which, he did still have her in the verity circle, and he felt he should respect that. “Where did you go last night?” he grumbled instead.

“Out.” She grinned. “Come on, Tomik. That question wasn’t even hard to think around. I’m disappointed in you. Don’t you have anything better?”

But Tomik didn’t answer. He was no longer paying attention to Karina, staring over her shoulder instead. His heart was hammering unpleasantly in his chest and his palms had grown sweaty, the slow drip of unsettled panic running through his veins. Karina tilted her head to the side with a frown then spun around to find the focus of his gaze.

As a professor, Bendik Zima should have been just another person about the campus, but Tomik had never felt comfortable around him, even before he’d started hearing the rumors. He looked middle-aged— grey hair just starting to crowd out his dark temples. His eyes were a milky grey, leading down to a sharp nose. Dressed all in black, he held the perfect posture that could only be born of proper Orzhov breeding. Word around the school was he was a necromancer of some talent, though that was a fashionable thing for members of the Orzhov nobility to claim. Like most of Tomik’s teachers he said that he saw promise in the young heiromancer; but always there was that thin, twisted smile, and those far too lingering eyes that told Tomik his intentions were less than pure.

Tomik didn’t know how much of Zima’s supposed accomplishments he believed, but he knew he didn’t like the man. The _other_ rumors about him Tomik put a lot more weight in. Especially after Tomik had found himself alone with him a few years back to 'discuss his future'. He'd gotten similar propositions from other teachers, Tomik knew it was just another part of the hierarchy that kept the system working, but that didn't make it any easier. His aversion to Zima had only grown steadily since. While the others hadn’t been pleased to have their advances turned down, Zima was the only one to continue to seek his ‘affections’ afterwards. Tomik had tried to be respectful, like he was supposed to be, but... Talking about it just wasn't done, and he knew if he turned Zima down too forcefully it would be considered rude. Many would think he was fortunate to catch the eye of someone like professor Zima, and they wouldn't be wrong. Tomik knew they weren't wrong, it was just… when Zima looked at him, it was like getting doused with wet, stagnant air.

“Ah, the Vronas.” There was a musical, lilting tone to his voice. Karina had once theorised he used an enchantment to make his voice more enchanting, and then spent an hour pantomiming all the horrible and hilarious ways his voice must really sound. It was a comforting memory to which Tomik held fast, helping chase away his discomfort.

Forcing a polite smile, Tomik reminded himself to breathe normally. Karina stepped out of the circle but thankfully stayed nearby. Professor Zima didn’t seem to care about her, his interest fully focused on Tomik. “Professor.” Tomik tried to sound casual, though he could feel his skin crawling. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. Zima tipped his head, his eyes still on Tomik, a thin smile on his lips, and the seconds began to stretch uncomfortably. “Was there something you needed?” Tomik prompted. “We were just taking a break before our next class.”

Zima nodded, his cloudy eyes flicking disdainfully over Karina and the circle before settling once again on Tomik. “Yes, so I see. I read your paper on Squatters’ Rights and Clause Seven. You have a curious way of looking at the matter.”

Tomik clenched his jaw, forcing himself calm. That paper had been “curious” because he’d learned from Ral that even though they’d lived in the lab long enough to claim it as theirs, there was a loophole that would allow the Orhzov to force them out without even paying for the building if they tried to act on it. Tomik was always intrigued by a loophole, but not when it allowed them to create abuses like that. He stood by that paper, but maybe he should have been a little more careful. Now his least favorite teacher was snooping around, and Tomik would never forgive himself if something he did cost Ral, Jace, and Vraska their home.

“It seemed like an interesting topic.” Tomik managed to keep his voice from trembling, but only just. He swallowed thickly and forced his head up, refusing to be cowed. “And it proved to be so. I feel that paper is one of my best.”

“Yes, very… Promising.” Zima grinned slowly, like he was savoring the word. “There were, however, a few small errors all the same. In the future I would be delighted to offer my assistance.”

“That’s very kind of you to offer.” A feeling of something gross and slimy overtook him at the need to, yet again, find a way to politely refuse his professor’s less than subtle advances. It was just part of the system he told himself, but it only helped a little. “Thankfully,” Tomik made himself continue, the firm cadence of his own voice sounding strange in his ears—He hoped it kept Zima from sensing his unease. “My parents are usually more than enough to compensate for my lack of knowledge.”

Zima didn’t look nearly as dismayed as Tomik would have liked, though it was enough to make him draw back. Those milky eyes were difficult to read, but Tomik got the impression that he was far from dissuaded. “I see. It is only natural for a child to turn to their parents first, of course. Still, remember my offer should you ever wish to take your scholastic career… further. Good day.”

He walked away in a swirl of black cloak and the moment he was out of sight Tomik felt the air loosen in his lungs. Tomik had tried repeatedly to make it clear he wasn't the type to sleep with his teachers to get ahead. But when it came to Bendik Zima his boundaries were constantly pushed and the situation had, if anything, gotten worse. Tomik desperately wished there was some kind of recourse, but the system first and foremost protected itself. Bendick Zima was from a powerful and influential family. Tomik’s own parents were highly respected adovkists, but they’d been the first in generations to bring any real attention to the Vrona name. It made his options limited.

Karina pranced over to him. Despite her flouncing movements, there was something dark and twisted hiding in her eyes that Tomik only saw octionally, but knew to be wary of.

“That man wants your mouth on his dick so bad it’s making _me_ uncomfortable.”

Tomik laughed without humor, his stomach churning like he might be sick. She sat next to him on the fountain wall and leaned against his shoulder, silently supportive. It wasn’t as nice as when Ral pushed into his space, but it was nice all the same. Tomik leaned into her, accepting the comfort offered.

"Milvina Vesna said I'm too attractive to be such a tease and I should take pity on him." He sniffed, rubbing a hand under his nose and looked away.

"Oh Tomik," she started softly and drew him back around to look at her. "Milvina Vesna is a slut."

Tomik barked out a surprised laugh at her candor. "I'm pretty sure you are too."

"Yeah but I'm the good kind of slut," she said in a chipper voice. "The kind with self respect and boundaries. Milvina Vesna just wants daddy to love her."

Tomik tried to smile as he nodded but he knew he wasn't successful. He felt Karina's arms wrap around him and he pushed into the embrace. "It's okay that you're not a slut, Tomik."

"Why gee, thank you."

"No, I mean it!" she quipped back, pushing away to look at him. "You're you and it's okay to take it at your own pace. You'll know when your ready, and just because you don't want to have sex with some old skeezer doesn't mean there's something wrong with you."

Tomik nodded, not looking at her. He still couldn't help the thought that maybe Milvina Vesna was right. That he was putting something out there. That the reason he kept getting this kind of attention was a flaw in how he presented himself and if he could just figure what that was, all the unwanted advances would stop.

“Aw, honey,” Karina started gently. She must have seen something in his face when she ran her fingers down the side of his cheek. It felt nice, and Tomik leaned into it. “Want me to take him out for you?”

“What could you possibly do?” Tomik asked, scuffing the toe of his boot on the ground. Karina immediately opened her mouth to say something, but Tomik placed a hand over her ruby-red painted lips, and this time his laugh was genuine. “...Never mind. I take it back. I’d rather have plausible deniability.”

She laughed, and the sun came back to the courtyard.

 

* * *

 

The smell of something sweet wafted through the air of the Vrona Manor when Tomik walked into the main parlor that afternoon. His mother was speaking with one of the maids, and turned to greet him.

“I thought you would be with Karina this afternoon?” she asked, her voice like the quietest sigh of wind. “You certainly have been over there quite often lately.”

“Um, yeah.” Tomik nervously tugged on the strap of his bag, only just remembering not to bite his lip or play with his glasses to give himself away—his mother had eyes like a hawk when it came to tells. “Yeah, she had things to do this afternoon.” he smiled, “I thought I would do my homework at home for a change.”

“Hum.” Her ghostly form didn’t look convinced, and Tomik knew he needed to get out of there before she decided to press. She could see through him in a heartbeat. “Well, I _am_ glad to see you still know where our house is,” she said, returning his smile.

Tomik chuckled awkwardly, fighting the urge to run and hesitant to speak, lest he say the wrong thing and reawaken her curiosity. “I’m… going to go find someplace to start studying, then,” he said. He was uncomfortable with deceiving his parents on the best of days, and he was still rattled from talking to professor Zima earlier. He really just wanted to hide in his books until dinner. Edging for the grand staircase, he hoped and prayed that she wouldn’t ask anything about where he’d been lately. Maybe he needed to work out a more solid plan with Karina than simply saying he was with her-

“Well, I would stay out of the gardens for now,” his mother said. “I know how much you’ve been enjoying working in there, but I’m getting them watered at the moment.”

"What?" his head whipped around to face her, partway up the stairs. “Like, _now_ , right now?” He didn’t even try to hide how excited he was. He hadn’t known Ral was supposed to be here today. They hadn’t been planning on seeing each other, but Tomik's heart was suddenly hammering in his chest.

“Yes,” His mother replied slowly. “He’ll be done in about twenty minutes or so.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Okay!” Tomik abandoned the stairs for the door in the back of the foyer that led deeper into the house.

“I thought you were heading upstairs?” she asked with an arch of her ghostly eyebrow. It was a look he had tried to copy before, but had never been much good at.

“Um, yes, but… I thought I would go see if Mrs. Gibbons could spare a snack first?” That wasn’t too outrageous. He could eat. He could also not eat, but maybe he could get by with the lie.

His mother still looked skeptical, but she let it go. Tomik raced off down the hallways, grinning when he got to the massive gardens in time to find it still lightly raining. He took the stairs to the terrace two at a time.

On the platform Ral was sitting cross legged on the floor, eyes closed but with his tongue caught between his lips as he concentrated on his spell. Tomik crept up behind him, tiny spots of rain gathering on his glasses. When he was sure he was still unnoticed, he dropped down to sit on the floor next to Ral. Ral jumped, grey-green eyes snapping open as Tomik laughed. Rolling his eyes, Ral's face broke into a grin as his rain clouds began to break up.

“You made it.” Ral extended his rain shield so Tomik was tucked away underneath it beside him.

“I just got home. I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

Ral shrugged. “I didn’t either, but I got a messenger thrull from your mother asking for an off-schedule watering and I moved some things around in my schedule so I could be here this afternoon.”

It crossed Tomik’s mind that Ral moving things around might have meant he made other employers upset, and he certainly wasn’t worth that. On the other hand, Tomik was also really happy to see him. Ral had recovered his focus on the rain clouds, bringing them back under control. The little breaks in them had created soft rays of sunlight through the glass. Tomik was in awe of Ral’s magic, and the way it manifested. It was the first thing he'd noticed about him, and he loved how it bled into every aspect of his character. How he could be as brutal and uncontrolled as a surprise summer storm, but also as welcoming and enticing as the softest rain shower.

The clouds knit back together, plunging them into a dim half-light. This time the rain arched away from him, as it did Ral. It was nice, after a bad day, just to sit with Ral under his rain. There was something comforting about being nestled under a soft bank of rain clouds, like a blanket insulating him from classwork and tests and milky eyes leering at him from far too close, as if they wished to pin him in place like a bug skewered on a pin...

“Hey,” Ral’s voice was soft, and there was a line etched across his forehead, like he got when Jace said Vraska was “on a job”. The kind of worry that he felt for his family... and Tomik too, apparently. “Are you okay?” Ral asked, and Tomik swallowed. “You seem a little... off?”

Tomik breathed out a heavy breath. He wasn’t going to explain the Zima situation to Ral. It was honestly a little embarrassing, and just one of those Orzhov things that was hard to explain to outsiders. But maybe it had affected him more than he thought? He shrugged, and looked at his fingers, his cheeks heating up, and for a different reason than they usually did when he was around Ral. He didn’t see Ral’s frown deepening.

“I’m fine. It’s just … um… I’m fine.”

Ral nudged his side with a sharp elbow. “On my scale, is it Jace being annoying, or losing a client?” he asked the question with a smile that was somehow bright enough to chase away Tomik’s personal rain clouds.

He didn't mean to lean into Ral any more than he already was, but Ral was there and soft and welcoming. And he didn't push him away when Tomik laid his head on his shoulder. It was like when Karina sat next to him, and yet totally different. Karina made him feel not so alone. Ral made him feel safe. Which was ridiculous, he knew. It wasn’t like Ral was any stronger or more dangerous than he was, but when he was there, Tomik felt less vulnerable. Never mind they were in the middle of the manor and being like this with Ral was probably about the stupidest thing he could do.

“Somewhere in the middle? Really, it's nothing. It was just sort of a rough day.”

“Well, I got another fifteen minutes here or so?” Ral didn’t push him away, and Tomik closed his eyes, relaxing for the first time since that afternoon. Tomik felt Ral’s fingers brush against his own before curling around them. Ral’s hands were rough and calloused, but tingled against his skin with the energy of the magic he was channeling. Tomik smiled without opening his eyes, and held on. “You could just stay with me for a while?”

Tomik did, and when the rain lulled him to sleep he didn’t wake up until an hour later, when his pillow reluctantly had to pull away to make it to his next stop.


End file.
